


Hitting the Bullseye

by Shirazkindofgirl



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Mashed Potato Ficathon, Orienteering, Paintballing, potato-faced men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 01:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirazkindofgirl/pseuds/Shirazkindofgirl
Summary: Holby's H.R. Department decides the Senior Consultants should attend a weekend team-building exercise. Bernie is suitably unimpressed, especially when she finds out her ex-husband will be there.





	Hitting the Bullseye

Bernie burst through the door. She slammed it so hard behind her the whole office shook. Looking up from her computer screen, Serena’s comment about something being wrong died on her tongue when she noticed the look on Bernie’s face.

“You’ve heard the news, I assume?” Serena asked.

Bernie glowered. “How do they expect this hospital to function when half of the senior staff are poncing around in the countryside. It’s farcical!” She shouted.

Serena sighed. She could have predicted this reaction from her girlfriend as soon as she, herself, had seen the e-mail from Hanssen. She could only imagine how Ric, Jac and Sacha had reacted.

“This weekend, we will be holding a Team Building exercise. The senior staff listed below are required to attend. Blah, blah, attendance mandatory.” Bernie was becoming more animated as she paced around the office, “This is so unfair. It’s the first weekend we’ve had off together in weeks.” She wailed.

“I know darling, but there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll have to make the best of it and try to sneak some time to ourselves.” Serena tried to placate her girlfriend.

“Sneak some time to ourselves?” Bernie perked up at the idea.

The week raced by in the usual whirlwind of trauma, routine surgeries and the always dreaded paperwork. The time arrived for the reluctant Holby team to embark on their journey. A minibus awaited outside of Wyvern Wing. Luggage was loaded, and the consultants stepped aboard. Serena and Bernie snuggled close together. Bernie closed her eyes and rested her chin against the top of Serena’s head. 

“I’m really looking forward to this weekend.” Sacha said excitedly, “I’ve read the brochure and it looks like so much fun!”

Jac snorted derisively from the back of the minibus.

Stepping off the minibus, Serena looked around at what would be their home for the next two nights. Not too shabby as outdoor centres went, the stay would be smoothed along with the bottles of Shiraz currently hidden in her suitcase. 

A tall, grey-haired man stepped through the front door of the centre, “Good evening, welcome to your home away from home for the next few days. My name is George and I will be your instructor this weekend. Room assignments are on the notice board. Please make yourself comfortable and I will see you bright and early for breakfast at 7.30.” George looked towards the gate, “Ah, here comes our second team.”

A second minibus had pulled to a stop outside of the main entrance, the door of the bus squeaked open and a familiar figure stepped off. Behind her, Serena could hear Bernie groan, “As if this weekend wasn’t bad enough already. I’m going to be subjected to sharing it with my bastard of an ex-husband.”

Henrik Hanssen stepped forward to greet the team from St James’s Hospital. Unnoticed, Bernie slipped through the open door of the centre and wandered over to the notice board. She scanned the list of room assignments. Serena and Jac had been paired together and Bernie was sharing with someone from the opposing team. Oh, that wouldn’t do at all. She pulled the list from the board and stuffed it into her pocket as she sauntered back outside to re-join her team.

Introductions between the two teams having been made, Hanssen suggested everyone should adjourn inside and get settled into their rooms.

Bernie cleared her throat, “Oh Henrik, the room assignment list just said to pair up as we saw fit. Serena? That means you’ll be with me.” Bernie said with a grin. 

“Should she really be allowed to share with her girlfriend?” Marcus sneered, “Whoever ends up next door to them had better hope the walls are thick. You don’t want to hear what they get up to.”

Serena stepped towards the dark-haired man, she’d never noticed quite how much he resembled a potato … a Marcus Piper …. “By ‘get up to’ I assume you mean engaging in a loving, sexual relationship and for your information, Marcus …” Serena leaned close to Marcus’s ear, “I can make Bernie scream in a way you never could.” Stepping back, Serena continued, “However, for the sake of your delicate ego, we’ll try to keep the noise down.” With that, Serena wrapped an arm around Bernie’s waist and turned them towards the doors, grabbing their luggage on the way.

“How did you stay married to such a total tosser for so long?” Serena asked when they were safely inside their room.

Bernie sat on the bed and sighed. “Can we get through this weekend without too much nastiness with Marcus, do you think?”

Serena pulled a bottle of Shiraz from her suitcase, pleased to see that it had survived the journey in one piece. She turned to Bernie with a smile. “I’ll behave if he does. Do you think you can scrounge up some glasses and we can liberate this wine from the bottle, Ms Wolfe?”

“I’ll do my very best.” Bernie answered as she left the room.

Returning with glasses in hand shortly after, Bernie noted Serena had changed into her pyjamas, opened the wine and that she had pushed the two single beds together. “You’ve been busy.” She said.

Serena leaned forward and kissed her gently. She took the glasses and poured wine into them. “I have a feeling we’re both going to need this if we are to survive this weekend.”

Bernie quickly changed into her sleepwear and they both slipped under the covers. After the wine was consumed, they settled down to sleep. Each wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Walking into the canteen the next morning, Bernie was pleased to note that Marcus didn’t appear to be there yet. She piled two plates with bacon, eggs, toast and mushrooms, giving the baked beans a wide berth. She turned to see where Serena was and noticed that she had just filled two cups with coffee and was making her way over to the rest of the Holby team. 

As Bernie stepped away from the hot plate, she heard Marcus’s voice behind her, “Oh beans! I absolutely love them. Of course, we never had them at home. My ex didn’t like them, can you believe that? Who doesn’t like baked beans? Such a weirdo!”

Ignoring her prat of an ex-husband, Bernie placed the plates down and slid into the seat opposite Serena. She greeted everyone and then set about eating her breakfast. She could hear Marcus still going on about how poor she had been as a wife. Serena reached over and squeezed Bernie’s arm, “Don’t worry about him. We’ll hit him right where it hurts.”

Bernie looked up from under her fringe, “I don’t think they’ll let us shoot him in the balls.”

“I meant his ego when we beat his team,” Serena leaned in close, “but I like your idea better. Think we can hit him with a few pellets and make it look like an accident?”

Before Bernie could respond, George’s voice echoed around the hall. “Good morning ladies and gentlemen. I hope you are well rested. We have a full day of fun ahead of us. As soon as you’ve finished breakfast, we are going to start with an orienteering exercise. You will be given a map, a pen, a walkie-talkie and a series of grid references to plot. The first team to complete the exercise will gain extra paint balls for our first exercise tomorrow. Any questions?”

“One of their team was in the army, they have an unfair advantage!” Marcus squawked, gesticulating wildly in Bernie’s direction.

“Well, then I suggest you pay close attention to your map.” George responded. “Your backpacks, with food and water are waiting for you outside. Dinner will be at 7pm. Good luck.”

With a scraping of chairs, both teams rose from their tables and walked outside to find their packs. Typically, Marcus was first to the packs and picked up his team’s map. With a quiet muttering and one or two sour looks, his fellow team members; Liz, Ben, Thomas, Victoria and Frank, followed behind.

“Right guys, we can win this.” Sacha picked up their team’s map and proceeded to look at it with a frown. 

Sighing heavily, Jac snatched the map from Sacha’s hands and turned it 180 degrees. “We won’t be winning anything if we don’t have the map the right way up! Let’s put your army skills to our benefit Wolfe, point us in the right direction for the first grid reference.” Jac thrust the map at Bernie.

“Oh, I …. um …”

“Yes, come along Ms Wolfe. Which way should we go?” Hanssen loomed over Bernie’s shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Bernie looked at the map and began to plot the checkpoints. When she had finished she asked the others to double check her work. 

“You really think any of us have a clue what we are doing, Bernie? If you think you have these right, we’re not going to disagree.” Serena smiled at her girlfriend. Looking at the map, Serena realised the first checkpoint was less than a quarter of a mile away and suggested they head towards it.

Reaching the first designated area, the team began to search for the small acid yellow flag they needed to find … and searched …. and searched.

“Did you get the coordinates right?” Jac asked as she kicked around a small clump of earth.

Bernie was in the middle of doublechecking the coordinates again when the walkie-talkie squawked to life. The team from St James’s had found their first flag.

Jac swore and kicked the earth again, “Oh, hang on …. I found it!” She held up the small yellow flag.

The team regrouped and moved on to look for their second set of coordinates, knowing they were already behind and needed to catch up if they were to stand any chance of winning this challenge.

They made steady progress finding the flags, sometimes they were ahead of St James’s and sometimes behind. As both teams raced to find their final flags, the teams were neck and neck.  
It was growing dark as the team approached their final search area. Bernie knew they needed to find their flag before the other team if she hoped to avoid Marcus’s gloating all evening. In fact, if St James’s won, Marcus would be even more unbearable than he usually was for the remainder of the weekend.

Reaching an intersection in the path through the wooded area they were currently in, Bernie came to a halt. There was a sharp right turn in the path ahead of them. The trees seemed to close in on either side of the path. Serena caught up with Bernie as a sudden gust of wind rustled the branches overhead. “Did you ever see the movie, Blair Witch Project?”

“Um ….” Bernie whispered.

“No, I don’t suppose you did.” Serena sighed, “Right, where’s this bloody flag? There’s another bottle of Shiraz waiting for us back at the centre.”

The team scoured both sides of the path, to no avail. This was getting very predictable. The sky steadily darkened and the hopes of them finding the last flag dimmed with the fading light. A rustle from the side of the road made Serena jump and she looked up half expecting an animal to scurry out of the undergrowth. What she saw made her pause in her search. Henrik Hanssen had just pulled a pair of night vision goggles from his backpack and was attempting to put them over his head. After some minutes of fumbling, Henrik finally had the googles positioned in place and switched them on. He moved around the area, systematically searching each side of the path, until finally he found the last elusive acid yellow flag. With a very un-Henrik-like whoop, he bent to retrieve the flag and lifted his googles to balance them on the top of his head. The team gathered around to congratulate Henrik as Ric grabbed the walkie-talkie and proceeded to inform the organisers that they had found their final flag and were on their way back to base. It was with a sense of triumph the team from Holby were informed they had won the challenge. St James’s had failed to find their final flag.

“Did the organisers provide the goggles?” Ric asked as they trudged back to the centre.

“No, I bought my own.” Henrik replied. “There isn’t anything in the rules that said I couldn’t. I used my initiative Mr Griffin.”

Listening to the light-hearted conversation taking place between her team members, Serena smiled and slowed her pace. Turning to see if there was a problem, Bernie noticed the look on Serena’s face and leaned down to kiss her gently. Serena opened her mouth beneath Bernie’s and attempted to deepen the kiss. Bernie reluctantly pulled back. “It’s getting dark. I don’t want us getting lost and having to spend the night out here.”

Serena squeezed Bernie’s hand, “I’m sure we’d find a way of keeping each other warm.” She sighed, “but Ric will never let us forget it if someone has to come and rescue us.”

Returning to their room later that evening, Bernie eyed Serena as she poured glasses of wine for each of them. “I’ve seen some frightening things during my career, especially when I was on tour overseas, but the found footage in the Blair Witch Project scared me half to death. I think it was the fact it gave you space to create your own terrifying images. It amazes me that a film costing approximately $50,000 to make grossed over $100 million in the US alone.” Bernie paused when she noticed Serena staring open mouthed, “What? I do know some popular culture. I’m not as clueless as everyone seems to think I am.”

Serena leaned in and kissed Bernie tenderly. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

The final day dawned dry and bright. The teams gathered in the canteen. A hearty breakfast was on offer and the planned events for the day were discussed amongst the teams. As Serena placed items onto plates for herself and Bernie, she overheard a conversation between two members of the St James’s team and took great delight in reporting back to Bernie that apparently, Marcus wouldn’t listen to reason during their orienteering exercise and it had been his fault entirely that St James’s couldn’t find the final flag.

At 8am sharp, George appeared, and everyone gathered around to listen to his instructions. “Good morning everyone. I hope you are ready for our final day. There are two events to be held today, both will involve paintballing. As soon as you have finished breakfast, we will issue you with overalls, protective equipment and your paintball guns. Your guns will be preloaded with pellets. As Holby won yesterday’s challenge, they will be awarded extra paint pellets for both of today’s activities. We will see you in ten minutes.”

Finishing up their breakfasts, both teams gathered outside to receive their equipment and safety instructions. The Holby team changed into their blue overalls and the St James’s team wore black. They were directed to the playing field where referees awaited them. To play their first game, ‘Protect the President’ each team would nominate a player who would be their ‘President’. The aim of the game, was to ensure their President reached their destination at the other end of the field safely. If the opposing team managed to shoot the President with a paintball, the President would ‘die’ and that team would lose.

A coin was tossed, and it was decided that St James’s would go first. They chose their Cardiac Surgeon, Frank, to be their President and he put on the additional chest and back protector. St James’s remaining team members gathered around him and the Holby group spread out in a pattern to form an attack plan. 

The path for this task was a straight one. All St James’s had to do was stay close enough so that no-one from the Holby team could get a clear shot at their ‘President’. They shuffled forwards along the path grouped closely around Frank. Try as they might, the Holby team could not get a clear shot at him. Bernie took great delight in taking her frustrations out on her ex-husband, bombarding him with paint in the hope that one of her shots would hit their target.

With a limited number of steps to go until St James’s reached their destination, hopes for the Holby team getting a shot at their target were waning. Making a last-ditch effort, Sacha threw himself forward along the path and promptly tripped over a small pothole. As he connected with the ground, Sacha’s gun went off, a single pellet making its way towards its target. Sacha would never know how it happened, the pellet almost seemed to have a mind of its own, but miraculously, the pellet hit Frank square on the shoulder. A small splat of green paint marking his black overall.

A loud cheer went up from the Holby team and Ric hauled Sacha to his feet, slapping him on the back in a congratulatory manner. Groans of commiseration could be heard from the St James’s group.

“How did that bloody oaf get the winning shot?” Marcus groused, “Team Night Vision Goggles must have cheated again.”

“Oh, give it a rest Marcus. We’re all sick of hearing your constant whining.” Frank said as he inspected the damage to his otherwise pristine jumpsuit. 

Returning to the start line, the Holby team decided that as a reward for his winning shot, Sacha would be their ‘President’ for this event. As they gathered in a close formation around him, they decided they would try to move a little quicker along the path than St James’s had done. If they were a bit faster, it would give their opponents less time to make their shots count. All they had to do was make it down the 100m path and it would be their third victory of the weekend.

With a hasty shuffling motion, they started off down the path, jostling each other along. Pellets rained down around them, but so far Sacha remained paint splat free. Bernie shouted encouragement, they were halfway down the path, they could make it the rest of the way.

Unfortunately, this time victory was not to be. Three quarters of the way down the path, St James’s decided to change tactics and target one member of Team Holby at a time. A bombardment of pellets poured down on Ric and he turned to shield himself a little more, thus creating a small gap in the protective sphere surrounding Sacha. It proved enough to allow a sniper-style shot to hit Sacha full in the chest. The game was over and Team Holby had lost this round.

There was much gloating on Marcus’s part that the right team had been victorious this time. His fellow teammates did not seem so happy, even if they should have been buoyed up on their success.

With very contrasting atmospheres between the two groups, they returned to the canteen for lunch. Digging her fork into her chicken salad, Jac mused on the events of the day so far. She was loathed to admit, but she was having a good time today and she was sure things would get better when she could take all of her frustrations out on anyone who got in her way during the final event.

Making their way back out to the playing field, they gathered around for their last set of instructions. This would be a last person standing free for all event – each person fighting for their survival. 

The referees retreated to a safe distance and Marcus looked around for a suitable place to hide. He was determined that he would win this event, even if it meant hiding until there was only one other person standing.

Looking around to judge the best vantage point, Marcus made eye contact with his ex-wife. Standing behind Bernie, Serena and the other members of Team Holby blocked Marcus’s access to everything in front of him. Marcus spun around hoping to scamper away from his competitors. His plan was thwarted when he realised the path behind him was obstructed by his own team members. Trying to force his way through the people closing in around him, Marcus finally admitted defeat and stood still.

“Marcus, you’ve been an absolute knob this weekend. We’re sick of it.” Liz yelled as everyone fired their last remaining pellets at him. 

Bernie would never know for sure whose pellets had hit Marcus right where it hurt, but his high-pitched yelping would be one of her happiest memories for a long time to come and the bruises left by the paint pellets would stay as a reminder to Marcus of what it really meant to be a team player.


End file.
